


herein I will imitate the sun

by silveryink



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Filler scenes, Gen, Humor, Odin doesn't really appear technically so he's not tagged as a character, Post-Thor: The Dark World, but that's out of convenience and nothing more, some of my OCs are named after norse gods, what happened on asgard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryink/pseuds/silveryink
Summary: For four years between the invasion of Asgard and its destruction, Loki ruled disguised as Odin. What if... people knew this and decided not to mention it?Alternatively, 5 times people discovered 'Odin's identity, and 1 time they revealed that they'd known it all along
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	herein I will imitate the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! It's been a while since I've written something new for Marvel, but I had this idea in my mind for a while. Based off a Tumblr post about what would have happened if people knew that Loki had been Odin all along.  
> While this is mostly crack, there are a few headcanons I've included that tie up some loose threads in canon re: what actually happened during the four years of Loki's rule as Odin.  
> Title from Henry IV, Part 1.

**1:**

Asgard wasn’t the same as it had been mere days ago. Eir suspected that it never would be.

The chief Healer had found the palace unusually sombre since the invasion by the Dark Elves, though she couldn’t blame any of its occupants for the gloominess. The princes had lost their mother; the All-Father his wife, and the people their queen. Then the people had lost their prince, _again_. Or so they thought.

See, Eir had known Prince Loki since childhood. She’d known him long enough to remember the mishaps around the palace that led him or his victims into the healing chambers. She could probably recount as many embarrassing stories as Frigga could have about the scrapes the young trickster had gotten himself into – and out of. She had also been one of the few to suspect that something had been amiss, when he’d returned from Midgard. She’d given him the usual assessment that was expected for all those who were to appear in a trial, to ensure that they hadn’t been enchanted to perform what another willed.

Eir had found that the rules circumvented her diagnosis enough for that to be true, when she’d examined his mind. She hadn’t been able to stall the hearing or help mitigate the punishment – or perhaps she had, for acts such as the ones committed on Midgard were normally a direct route to execution. Nevertheless, all was not well in the once-lost prince’s mind, and she’d made sure the All-Mother knew of this. She monitored Loki from afar, through the steady reports of her queen, and been gratified to find him healing slowly and steadily.

Then came the attack of the Svartalfar on Asgard, and with it the deaths of two of the royal family. This was when Eir had surmised that something was afoot – in the wake of Prince Loki’s (second) death, supplies had started to disappear from her stores.

At first, she hardly noticed anything happening. The repairs were underway, as were the Healers’ need to, well, _heal_ the wounded. Supplies were likely to vanish when someone stumbled in with an injury and assumed that some bandages and salve would help. Most of the time, it did. Eir knew where this particular batch went, of course, since it was taken from her _private_ stores instead of the common resources of the healing rooms. The palace, for all its despairing disposition, was buzzing with activity. It would have been incredibly easy for someone to slip out some extra bandages when they needed it, entirely unnoticed – that is, if they _knew_ where Eir’s private stores were.

It would have been a walk in the park for a mage to walk in completely disguised and sense the wards radiating off the cabinet so carefully hidden away from anyone but the highest-ranking healers.

Still. She resented that the young prince had neglected to clean the trail of blood he’d left off of the floor.

* * *

**2:**

The days passed, the wounded left the halls of Asgard much emptier and more desolate in its silence. It was as it had been in the time following the Bifrost’s destruction, when Loki had fallen off its edge into the Void. The tragedy had shaken Asgard’s citizens to the core, as did the death of their queen, and their prince _yet again._ Somehow, Forseti felt as though he was missing something. He was the chief advisor to the All-Father and in the millennia he had served the king, he had a good idea of how he operated in court.

He had also seen the young Odinsons grow into their maturity over the last thousand years, and had grown used to Prince Loki’s presence in court – a welcome addition to the proceedings, for his youthful lack of patience normally cut short the pointless posturing during council sessions. The All-Father had treated them as a dull but necessary part of the proceedings, while Loki simply sliced through them and got to the point.

Sometimes it was rather nice having fresh eyes in the court, Forseti had thought many times. Too bad Prince Thor hadn’t joined his younger brother in court sessions.

There had been few council meetings since the Convergence, yet Forseti could sense the drastic changes in the All-Father. Of course, he would not have suspected this if Tyr had not brought it up one evening once they were both home after a long day’s work (Tyr had been working on strengthening their defences upon their liege’s command while Forseti had tried to redistribute the finances effectively for the repairs). The general of Asgard’s armies was right, he’d noticed it too, but had chalked it up to the king’s grief. _But_ , a little voice at the back of his head whispered, _the All-Father wished to raze the Svartalfar to the ground. He didn’t negotiate first, he sent in armies before considering a settlement._

So, well. This was new. Not new specifically, but new for the king. As Forseti attended more council meetings over the next months, he thought he had an idea of what was going on.

This became entirely clear when the All-Father heard news of the revolt on Vanaheim, the third in the last year alone.

“Good for them,” he could have sworn he heard him mutter. When Tyr had suggested different battle tactics to surprise them, he’d stopped the veneered general. “Is there a way we can negotiate with the rebels?”

Tyr had looked perplexed for a moment before smoothing his features into the careful neutral expression he normally wore in court. Meanwhile, Forseti was sure his eyebrows were doing their best to merge with his hairline. He was grateful that he wasn’t currently facing the All-Father, else his surprise at the uncharacteristic suggestion would have landed him outside the courtroom right then with no guaranteed return. It was the exact opposite of what he wanted, since he could tell that he would want to be in on the scene for what happened henceforth.

“We could send in an ambassador to try,” Tyr said. “It will be an incredibly lengthy process.”

“As long as we can get the matter settled without bloodshed,” the king murmured. “Asgard need not lose any more of her warriors. General, you should place the Lady Sif in charge of the negotiations, as well as Lord Hogun. I suspect he will be glad to return to his people. Have them speak with Lord Frey and Lady Gerd and urge them to go forward with peace talks, let them know that Asgard will do all they can to help.”

Hogun had returned a while back after the Convergence before Thor had left for Midgard. It was evident the old warrior missed his home world.

“Your Majesty, perhaps it might be wise to send Lord Hoenir as well?”

Odin shook his head. “If the negotiations go south, then we’ll need someone with knowledge of Vanir politics to help us through them. The council is dismissed,” he added, and stepped off the dais.

Forseti exchanged a significant look with Tyr. That evening, they set aside their suspicion and the mystery behind the king’s changed behaviour, for they weren’t about to complain if their lost prince had decided to rule in his father’s stead.

“Perhaps he only hides his face because of how the people would react,” Tyr said over a tankard of mead. “We _were_ told about his origins merely a year ago. People might assume he stole the throne.”

“He could have,” Forseti allowed. “But he only rules for the good of Asgard.”

Tyr nodded, silent in his thoughts. “Perhaps it is better to leave the matter aside, as you say, for the good of Asgard,” he said, and Forseti did so without complaint, tossing some gold onto the counter before joining his partner in the newly built avenues.

* * *

** 3: **

“No, surely you jest.” Astrid crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her sibling.

“Sister, it cannot be otherwise. Do you think Odin would have so readily and deftly brokered a treaty between Asgard and _Jotunheim_ of all places?”

“I understand what you mean,” Astrid said, though the idea was too strange for her to comprehend. “You _do_ realise how far-fetched it is?”

Áillun opened their mouth and closed it again, nodding. “Yeah,” they sighed. “ _But_ , I have evidence that this matches the way Prince Loki settled the matter after the Battle of Harokin centuries ago in Alfheim.”

“Áillun. He’s Odin’s son. Do you really think Odin would have remembered the simple way the matter was dealt with, and decided to proceed?”

“You may have a point there,” they said, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Perhaps he just wants an end to all the bloodshed. The Norns know the song of battle sings in our veins, but he has lost much in the last few years, as have we all.”

Áillun bit their lip, but nodded. Astrid patted their shoulder comfortingly and was just about to turn to head inside when:

“Oi, Astrid, Áillun!”

The siblings exchanged a flummoxed look before leaning out of their balcony. Inge was waving a pamphlet about as she shouted at them (and possibly the rest of the houses along the street), characteristically bringing them the day’s’ news and, amazingly, not using magic to amplify her voice.

Astrid loved her friend’s antics, but the Norns themselves would admit her loudness to be far more than the general raucousness of Asgardians.

“The All-Father just announced the opening of a theatre wing,” she yelled at the balcony. “He says that the first show will be a tribute to his lost son, a play called _The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard_!”

She tossed the pamphlet at them as she walked away, and Áillun caught it as it rolled into a neat scroll in their palm. Astrid blinked, and, without looking, smacked her sibling in the shoulder.

“What was that for?”

“To wipe the smug look on your face.” She glared at them, though their grin only grew wickedly.

“Then you admit I’m right?”

Astrid really wanted to say that this was all a strange, large coincidence but she had to admit, that was highly unlikely. “I do,” she grumbled, snatching the scroll from her sibling’s hand and unfurling it. “Damn you, søsken, but you’re right.”

* * *

** 4: **

Heimdall had held out his suspicion till now, but the giant golden statue of Loki in the square was the limit.

He was surprised that the prince’s love of dramatic gestures had been held back till now, though he supposed the play was a temporary indulgence. The people _loved_ the theatre, which Heimdall didn’t deny – it _was_ a rich part of their life despite only existing for two or so years, and displayed shows from all over the Nine Realms. And, well, the Nine didn’t really mind the spread of their beloved art into Asgard, so they didn’t hesitate to send their best scripts over to be performed in the king’s court.

Still. The statue was a bit much.

He remained silent for a while, until ‘Odin’ visited him at the Bifrost.

“My liege,” he said courteously. “I see the statue was unveiled today.”

“You and I need no pretence between us, Heimdall,” ‘Odin’ said.

Heimdall didn’t respond. Loki sighed and waved a hand. Heimdall felt the familiar mark of his _seidr_ swirl around them, and a green flash uncover his guise, revealing the prince in rather simple leathers (albeit in their trademark black and green). The Keeper of the Bifrost had suspected this for a long time, but he was pleasantly surprised to see no discontent in Loki’s eyes.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted amiably.

“You really _do_ have nothing to say to me,” Loki marvelled, raising a brow. He sighed. “I sought you out after going through Odin’s records. It seems my heritage was not the only secret he buried and concealed.”

Heimdall nodded. He supposed he should have been exasperated at the trickster’s long deception, but the feeling never came.

“I don’t know exactly which of his secrets will come to bite him, but when it does, I want Asgard to be prepared.”

“Did the records not say what it was?” Truly, the number of times Odin had covered up darker parts of his past without being caught up to was staggering.

Loki shook his head. “A lot of his past actions can – well, not be _undone_ , but the consequences were simple enough to mitigate. Some, though – I know not what they are, but I fear what will come of them.”

It was no ordinary day, Heimdall knew, when Loki admitted to fearing something. There wasn’t much the trickster was afraid of.

“What do you need?”

Loki eyed him carefully, before nodding to himself. He exhaled softly, and Heimdall waited for what the mage had to say. “I think it’s about time people faced the consequences for their actions, don’t you, my friend?”

Now it was Heimdall’s turn to eye Loki suspiciously. “What are you planning, Silvertongue?”

Loki waved away the old nickname, stepping before Heimdall to face him directly. “I require your assistance on finding some of Asgard’s old hidden bunkers. There were several of these places – hidden granaries, strongholds, anything of the kind – all out of use since the Aesir-Vanir battle. This is a mission that others cannot know about, so I need a reasonable excuse for your sudden disappearance.”

“Is this why you sent Sif off-world?”

“That is irrelevant, although I must say she’s doing a wonderful job helping Frey settle the treaty with the rebels.” Loki sighed, picking at his hand. “I’ll be declaring you a traitor for crimes against the throne. The Norns know you have committed many. The vagueness of the declaration will be enough to throw people of-guard. You will be free to look for the strongholds, and you will report your progress directly to me.”

Heimdall nodded gravely. “I assume you have someone in mind to take my position here?”

All of a sudden, Loki looked sheepish. “About that…”

* * *

** 5: **

Today, on the anniversary of the opening show of _The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard_ and the unveiling of Asgard’s first royally patronised theatre, a large crowd amassed in the open area, taking advantage of the free tickets to form the play’s largest audience to date. Their numbers had even startled the king upon his entry to watch the show, though the actors were fuelled by their presence and put up the best performance of their lives.

Áillun was not the only one with misty eyes during the brothers’ parting dialogue during the Svartalfheim scene, though Inge was sobbing openly while Astrid patted her shoulder awkwardly. Áillun could have sworn they saw the king mouth along the lines, but turned their attention back to the play. It wasn’t long before they heard a small curse from ‘Odin’ as he hastily returned his wineglass to its platter, and Áillun was enraptured by the ensuing interaction.

“My son! Thor has returned!” Turning to Thor, he said, “Greetings, my boy.”

Áillun coughed into their hand, fighting back a snicker. ‘Odin’ seemed to transform entirely in demeanour, his easy and relaxed posture righting itself into a stiff, more regal stance – or, however regal one could look in an orange silk robe. Ornately embroidered as it might have been.

“It’s an interesting play,” Prince Thor commented, and Áillun exchanged a gleeful look with Astrid. Had he seen the giant statue of his brother out front?

“What’s it called?”

“ _The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard_ ,” ‘Odin’ replied. “The people wanted to commemorate him.”

Now, there were audible snorts and hastily muffled chuckles. General Tyr’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter, and his partner was concealing a grin by looking away – coincidentally, right at Áillun themselves.

“Indeed they should,” Thor agreed mildly. “I rather like that statue, a lot better-looking than when he was alive, though. A little less weasely and greasy, maybe.”

Astrid bit her lip, stifling laughter. Prince Thor could not be more obviously trying to goad his brother, but seeing their king’s agitation was strangely amusing. As annoyed as she had been when Áillun’s ridiculous theory had turned out to be right, she wouldn’t have traded the world to miss this. A quick glance around the crowd assured her that most of them were about as invested in the outcome of this encounter as she.

The king and Prince Thor continued to argue for a while, before he spun ‘Odin’ right in front of him and threw Mjolnir into the distance.

A collective gasp went around the courtyard, but Astrid knew it was more for the severity of the prince’s reaction than the treasonous-ness of the act itself. A few Einherjar rushed in, but the god of thunder pushed them away. Thor stretched his hand before him, aligning it with the back of ‘Odin’s head. “You know nothing will stop Mjolnir as it returns to my hand.”

Forseti clapped a hand to his mouth, and Tyr wrapped his arm around him. No, this was going horribly wrong – there was nothing they could do, too, without giving way their knowledge of the deception. He sorely hoped that the prince would reveal his hand before the alternative…

True enough, to everyone's collective relief – “ _Alright, I yield!_ ”

Thor shoved his brother, now without his illusion, out of Mjolnir’s trajectory as he caught the hammer and returned it to his side. Loki stumbled aside and raised his hands defensively at Thor. A sigh went around the courtyard when their king was out of danger, but Forseti blanched.

Thankfully, Astrid let out an exaggerated gasp and aggressively elbowed Inge’s side. “ _What_?” Solveig exclaimed in hyperbolic shock. Forseti blinked as others started to pick this up, voicing their own (very much feigned) outrage, and caught Loki momentarily sweeping a confused look across them all before they fell into hushed murmurs, then silence when they heard the clanking of armour behind them.

Áillun was roughly pushed aside by an incredibly out-of-breath Skurge, but they refrained from snapping at him.

“Behold!” he wheezed, “Thor Odinson-”

Loki’s confusion vanished and he snapped his fingers once, whirling around in annoyance. “You had one job,” he snarled. “Just the one.”

“Where’s Odin?” Prince Thor asked.

Loki laughed humourlessly and ran a hand through his hair. “You just couldn’t keep away, could you? Everything was fine without you. Asgard was prospering,” he waved vaguely towards the crowd (now very badly pretending to be miffed in any way about the situation), “and you’ve just ruined everything. Ask them.”

Áillun took a moment to appreciate the sheer _younger-sibling-petulance_ of the statement. It was almost exactly something they might have said to Astrid under similar (if less serious) circumstances.

Thor advanced towards him, and Loki tripped backwards into the couch. “Where is Father? Did you kill him?”

“You had what you wanted, you had the independence you asked for!”

Thor looked unimpressed, and promptly pressed the hammer into his brother’s chest. Loki yelped and tried to lean away from it. “Alright! I know exactly where he is.”

Áillun sighed. “We’re doomed,” they muttered.

* * *

** +1: **

Thor gazed at his brother’s hand in wonder. The stopper of the decanter glinted in the light, caught deftly by Loki. His heart soared, as much as he would respect Loki’s choice to stay away from him and the rest of Asgard, he had hoped his brother would return.

“Do we have to hug now?” Loki asked dryly, striding over and capping the half-filled decanter neatly.

Thor answered this by pulling into his brother into his arms. Loki let out a soft _“oof”_ before hesitantly wrapping his arms around Thor as well and relaxing into the embrace.

Thor buried his head in the crook of Loki’s neck and drew him closer, glad that his brother was alive, was here, had chosen to join him – to join _Asgard_.

“I think that’s enough hugging,” Loki said, and Thor stepped away, noting the undercurrent of discomfort of such signs of affection. Fair enough, Thor thought: he’d never really been one for physical contact.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Thor said simply. Loki groaned.

“Spare me from your sap,” he complained. “Otherwise you’ll make me regret my choice.”

Thor raised his hands in defeat, chuckling. There was a knock at the door frame, and they looked up to see the Valkyrie leaning against it. “Hey, Majesty, they’re calling you up for the coronation now,” she said, then nodded at Loki.

He nodded at her in response, and a mutual understanding seemed to flow through them. “It seems you and I have a conversation in the works,” Loki said, before stepping past her into the long, winding corridors.

Thor wondered what that was about, before deciding to set it aside. Something else had been on his mind for a while now, so: “I’m surprised no one figured out that you were disguised as king.”

By now, they had reached the main hall, and a small group at the antechamber had been within earshot of Thor’s comment. Loki raised a brow at them when they began to laugh.

“Our apologies, your Highness,” a young lady said through giggles. “We were simply speaking of the same thing, or rather how my sibling had a rather odd theory that you were impersonating the All-Father.”

Despite Thor’s ache at the reminder of his loss, he was interested to know more.

“I would say it was more than a theory,” Loki said amiably. “Tell me, was your sibling the only one to find out?”

“No, my lord, I’m told they weren’t even the first.”

“Oh? What indication might the others have had about my, ah, _true identity_?”

“The Vanaheim treaty,” General Tyr said, prompting a slew of responses.

“The play-”

“The disappearing supplies from my cabinet-”

“ _All_ the treaties, in fact-”

“The statue, definitely,” Áillun said, and everyone murmured their assent.

Loki blinked, and Thor would have been thoroughly amused if he didn’t feel as taken aback as his brother. “I- I have nothing to say to this,” he said honestly.

“You all knew of the deception,” Thor said, incredibly curious, “and yet none of you brought it up?”

The onslaught responses were enough to startle them into silence once more. Finally, Loki threw his arms in the air and marched into the main hangar, exclaiming, “I give up! Thor, this is your damn job now!”

Thor laughed, and he supposed that among all the tragedy they had just faced, some things would simply remain the same.


End file.
